Taking Higher Ground
by Channel D
Summary: The Navy Yard is flooding! It's up to Gibbs and Vance to get the staff to safety...in their own, peculiar way. Crack!fic, humor. One-shot. Warning: Deaths of major characters, as this was written for the NFA's Crack!death!fic Challenge.


**Taking Higher Ground**

**by channelD**

_written for_: the NFA _Crack!death!fic _challenge. The goal is to write a crack!fic story with the death of at least one major character.

_rating_: K plus

_genre_: crack!fic/humor

_characters_: they all are

_**warning:**_** death of major characters.** (That goes along with the nature of this challenge.)

_disclaimer_: Another day, and still I own nothing of NCIS.

The water was lapping at the door of NCIS headquarters when Gibbs gave the order to evacuate. Many of the NCIS personnel had long since fled the flooding Navy Yard, but a hardy band had remained. But they could stay no longer. The water would soon be inside the building, and the hardy band was already striking up "Nearer My God to Thee."

A wild look had taken over Gibbs' eyes. "Line up!" he cried. "Two by two. I want two IT specialists, two lawyers, two—"

Vance stopped him. "Just line up, people. Every one hold up the hand of your rescue buddy!"

The long line of about 30 pairs held up hands. Tony had Nikki Jardine's hand. Abby had Ducky's. Ziva had Jimmy's. Tim had…well, he had no one's. He was the odd man out, and he sulked because not even the night janitor wanted to be his rescue buddy, choosing someone else.

Gibbs saw this and sighed. "McGee, you're with me."

Tim's heart leaped. How many times had he delighted to hear those four words! Usually, it meant something nice, like kicking in a suspect's door. What fun! Then he remembered that they were all about to drown. It didn't seem like fun anymore. He made a circle on the floor with the toe of his shoe.

"Coming, Leon?" Gibbs called.

Vance shook his head stoically. "Someone's got to man the fort. That's my job."

"Aw, now, there's nothing in your job description that says the captain has to go down with the building!"

Vance hesitated. "Is too."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Do I have to drag you out of here??"

Vance crossed his arms. "All right, I'll tell you. The reason I joined the Marines instead of the Navy is…because I get seasick. I even get seasick in the bathtub. Jackie has to fill the kids' wading pool. Why, even a pitcher of ice water can—"

"Okay, okay. You and McGee can be seasick together. Come on."

"Uh, why are we going to be seasick, boss?" asked Tim. "I assumed the whole point of leaving here was for dry land."

Gibbs cocked his head. "Do you _see_ any dry land around here, McGee?"

"Well…no." It had been raining in Washington for days upon days; record-breaking amounts of rain. Roads were becoming impassable. Schools were closed; little islands in the midst of waters. Some wags even reported that the statue of Abe Lincoln, high on his monument, had drawn his feet up in alarm. "What are we going to do, then, boss?"

"I have a plan."

"There's not enough time for you to build an ark, Jethro; even if you had woodworking tools," said Ducky. "And no, you may _not_ use Autopsy's instruments."

"They'd be a danged sight easier to work with than the _band's_ instruments," Gibbs protested, trying to hide his sulk. The fearful band launched into _Brahm's Lullaby_, and soon half the NCIS employees were falling peacefully asleep.

"Wake them up!" Gibbs barked, and the band played _The 1812 Overture._ That got people up and moving. Then they played _The Macarena_ and that got people dancing.

"You said you had a plan, Gibbs?" Vance prompted, as he folded his arms and stepped nimbly with the beat. "An ark parked in the car park?"

"Something like that," Gibbs replied, wondering why Vance was sounding like a barking dog. Or was that a seal? "Trust me."

Going out of the building, with the hardy band playing _Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again, _they waded through half a foot of water. The Anacostia River was threatening to overwhelm the SE quadrant of the District. It had even called a press conference for 4 p.m. to state its demands. The NCIS personnel didn't want to wait around for that.

"So, you have something to get us out of here, boss?" asked Tony. "An ark substitute?"

"Yup. Right over there," Gibbs pointed across Willard Park to the display ship _U.S.S. Barry_, a 1950s-era destroyer which had been on permanent exhibit aboard the Yard for several years. "We're taking 'er out. DiNozzo—weigh anchor."

Tony was flummoxed. He'd never seen the _Barry's_ anchor, and could only guess based on the anchors on exhibit in the park. "Uh…two tons, boss?...Is there a definition of 'weigh' that I don't know?"

"Tony, what did you do when you were Agent Afloat?!"

"I don't remember weighing ship's equipment. Is this a pastime that seamen do when they're really bored? Like, 'Hey! How much do you think that chain weighs?!' "

Gibbs sighed. "Just get on board…"

It would seem to take a lot of work to get the ship free of its moorings, but with the help of a band of volunteers, who laid down their instruments to help, they were soon underway. While Gibbs silently wondered when NCIS had become so musical, Vance, at the helm, steered the ship out into the swollen Anacostia. The staff cheered.

The hardy band, jealous of the attention the band of volunteers got up, started playing _In the Navy_. Soon half the staff was dressed as cowboys, steel workers, or cops. "Where is the NCIS Publicity Department? Did we bring them?" asked Vance.

Gibbs hoped not. He suspected they secretly were CIA moles. Never once had they gotten a post on NCIS' famed (internally) _Twaddle_ page. No one cared about NCIS. If they had, they wouldn't have left them to the Navy Yard floods. They wouldn't have—

"Agent overboard!" The cry of alarm startled Gibbs from his internet thoughts. He raced toward the sound of the commotion.

"Make a hole!" Gibbs ordered. They all looked at him blankly. "It means, 'step aside', you ninnies!!!"

The hardy band struck up _There's a Hole in the Bucket (Dear Liza)._ "Not now!!!" Gibbs snapped, and they dropped down to playing it very, very softly.

"What happened? Who went overboard?" Gibbs asked, and immediately regretted the statement. It could be any of these clowns! "Take off that greasepaint and wigs and false noses," he ordered. This was a Ship of Fools, all right.

Abby was crying. "Oh, Gibbs; it was Tony! The band was playing _Anchors Aweigh_ and he thought you'd be so proud of him if he really did weigh the anchor. So he took the little postal scale from the captain's lounge and—"

"Did anyone tell him that the anchor was up, and not in the water?" Gibbs demanded. With no answer forthcoming, he shouted, "Hard about—that means, _turn the ship around!!"_

At the helm, Vance obediently spun the _Barry_ in tight circles. "Wheeeeeeeee!" Vance yelled. This was more fun than an amusement park!

"Leon, stop!!!" Gibbs bellowed. Most of the staff was now dizzier than daisies. Tim had passed out. As the ship settled to a halt, Gibbs and people with good balance scanned the waters, but there was no sign of poor Tony. "A casualty of the floods," Gibbs said, putting his NCIS swoop cap over his heart in a sign of respect. He would have to tack a picture of Tony on the Yard bar's Wall of the Fallen Heroes sometime. Which picture should he choose? The one of him, blue-tinged, with y-pestis? The grainy picture seen in MTAC of Tony's Agent Afloat days? Or that brief stint as Eli David's lounge singer in the blue strapless dress?

Well, he didn't have to decide that now. "Paint! Bring me paint and a brush! And bring me Ziva!" he cried.

Soon he had all three. Ziva, wrapped in a harness, was lowered over the side of the ship. There she painted an X over the name _Barry_ and, as best as she could in her position, with the boat rocking, painted _Tony_ beside it. The ship was getting a floodtime promotion, Gibbs said.

Ziva had just painted the 'N' in _Tony_ when the knots in the ropes holding her came undone!

"No! No! No!" Gibbs cried, and grabbed for her, as did others. But they weren't able to catch her. Ziva plunged into the river, and was gone from sight as the boat sped on. Vance turned back this time, in regular fashion (he looked spiffy in his ship's captain duds), and although they recovered Ziva, it was too late. The former Mossad liaison officer had failed to cheat Death this time. (Death was later caught cheating, himself, and banned from all poker tournaments for a year.) The hardy band played, tastelessly, _Love That Dirty Water,_ ignoring Gibbs' glare.

There was little time for sorrow over the loss of two fine agents in such a short span of time. Gibbs was not about to lose any more agents, so he ordered Jimmy into the painter's harness. "You should have let me tie the knots in the first place, boss," Tim said, tearfully. He was the only survivor of Gibbs' team! Who could ever replace Tony and Ziva? No one! Well, he did have half a notion that putting Abby and Jimmy on the team would be fun, but this was probably not the time to suggest. Maybe tonight, after they'd all had dinner and were playing charades!

Lowered, carefully, over the side, Jimmy skillfully painted the name _Ziva_ next to _Ton._ The name of the ship now read, _S. S. Ton Ziva._ "Ziva's not going to like the implication that she weighed a ton," Jimmy clucked.

"She should have lain off the milkshakes. They were probably her downfall," Ducky sighed. The hardy band was starting to play something…Gibbs remembered the words as _A hundred and one / pounds of fun / That's my little Honeybun…_ before he yelled, "One more note and you're all going over the side.

They shut up.

"We're coming to the confluence of the Anacostia and Potomac Rivers," Vance called out.

"How can you tell?" Tim lifted his sorrowing, seasick head. "It just looks like water to me!"

"You see, but you do not observe, grasshopper," said the karate teacher before him. This was the first inkling Tim had that NCIS had a karate teacher. Or that someone thought he looked like a grasshopper. Maybe it was the dull green suit he wore today. Or the way his hind legs jutted out at a strange angle.

"What's that?" Tim asked.

"See, with your eyes," the karate teacher said with a mysterious smile, and melted into the crowd (like a stick of butter on a griddle. It was really rather horrible.).

Tim looked over the side of the ship. Sure enough; there, faint on the waves, were the words _Potomac River._ That was pretty cool!

"Where shall we go now, Leon?" Gibbs asked.

"Jackie and the kids have retreated to San Diego. I'd like to go visit them," said Vance, admiring the crackerjack sailor suit Gibbs had donned. Too bad it was in gray instead of white. With Gibbs, habits were hard to break.

"All the way there on the _S. S. Ton Ziva?_"

"Why not?" Vance replied cheerfully. "The waterways all connect. We'll head for the Allegheny, the Ohio, the Illinois, the Red River of the North, and sooner or later, we'll be in San Diego!"

Gibbs wasn't sure it would be that easy, but Vance was the boss. "If you see a gas station, you might want to stop for a fill-up before we try to go too far."

"Good idea. I'll look for one that sells diesel. Do you have your credit card with you?"

_Dang cheap Director._ "I think so." Gibbs held back the sigh, and hoped that Vance wouldn't make him get out and pump gas.

And so the ship sailed on. True to his word, Gibbs threw the hardy band overboard somewhere around Missouri. It was a miracle that his patience had lasted that long. It was probably after the 20th time that they'd struck up _Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head_

"Uh, boss…you know, I think we passed dry, high ground a long time ago," Tim said as the _S. S. Ton Ziva_ crossed the Rockies.

"We're on a mission, Tim," Gibbs smiled.

"Uh…to do what?"

"To be the first Navy ship to cross a range of mountains in streams less than a foot deep! And we're succeeding!"

"Well, I'll be…" Sure enough, the ship was somehow sailing steeply upstream in about five inches of water.

"And there's San Diego!" Vance crowed a short while later. "And we made it in record time!"

Gibbs wasn't even sure that anyone kept records of destroyers crossing the US, but he went along with it. "Now what?"

"Well, you're all invited to my parents' house—that's where Jackie and the kids are—and we'll have a big cookout and play charades, and in the morning…"

"Yes?" the nineteen survivors asked as one.

"We turn around and go home. The flood waters have receded in the District. Vacation's over; we can get back to work." The staff murmured their assent.

"Director?" a thin voice called.

"Yes, Palmer? What is it?" Vance looked in the mirror, straightening his captain's hat and preening just a little. Jackie would love how he looked!

Jimmy pulled uncomfortably on ropes, and stared at the names painted on the ship's side. "Can someone pull me back up onto the ship now?"

-END-


End file.
